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Duroxx
Overview Duroxx is a warlock once aligned heavily with the Stormreaver Clan during the First War. Following the destruction of the clan, Duroxx escaped, only to be cut down on the road during the climax of the Third War. He would later be raised as a member of the Scourge, and later the Forsaken. Now independent, Duroxx seeks power across Azeroth and has recently begun research on the art of blood magic, although sources of knowledge are limited. Duroxx's abilities precede many of the military warlocks in the Horde thanks to his extensive knowledge, and his undead status has left him able to withstand the pain of sacrifice, granting him an edge unavailable to living magicians. Backstory Early Life Duroxx was born and raised in the Thunderlord clan, growing up in the ancestral home of Grom'gar. He was immediately recognized as a shaman, and would follow its path until the new power of Warlock magic was discovered. Duroxx was raised by his father's sister, as his parents were slain in a clash with the rival Frostwolf clan. As a result, Duroxx's present distaste for other clans became noted by his peers. When he was taken into the Stormreaver Clan, he experienced difficulties adjusting to the group's different values. Rise of the Horde and the invasion of Azeroth Duroxx was present during both the meeting with Ner'zhul and his followers to discuss the growing draenei 'problem', as well as being one of many to drink the blood of Mannoroth. In this period, Duroxx was trained as a warlock and quickly took to his new abilities with great pride. He was present in the invasion of Shattrath, storming through the city under the banners of the Horde with only a spear on his back and a fireball in his palm. The young warlock would later join the Horde in the invasion of Azeroth, joining his brothers from the Thunderlord in raiding whilst atop a wolf. The formidable display of a warlock atop a dire wolf was a sight to behold, and Duroxx would also take part in the siege of Stormwind City. Duroxx's lifetime with his Thunderlord brethren would end as he was taken into the Stormreaver Clan, the personal guard of the warlock Gul'dan. He was then assigned to defend the Horde's positions in Stormwind City. Search for Power Only moments ago, Duroxx received curious news from the grunts; the Stormreaver were leaving the city. He had been previously assigned to defend the Horde's positions in the city with the rest of his clan, but now he was leaving, barely a day after he had settled in. The orc climbed upon the wolf Snarlsnout, a great black beast with piercing green eyes. He found it more effective to break the wolf, and be ever so slightly kinder to it once it was domesticated. But now he had a bond with the beast, but he didn't dare to tell his brothers of this new clan, for if any were Thunderlord, he would not hear the end of it. He snapped the reins, and the wolf burst into a fierce charge, quickly catching up to his brethren. They sneered at the half-dressed warlock; "Trouble with the saddle, thunder whelp?" one shouted over his shoulder, somewhere up ahead. Duroxx ignored the orc, staring down at the map he had received. "Have we not a job to do?" he inquired, peering up at the warrior beside him. "We aren't staying at that city! Gul'dan has sent word of an artifact on an isle in the southern ocean." He raised his brow curiously at the last statement. "What would an artifact of power be doing on this world? We have --" "When an opportunity like this comes, you don't question it. Keep riding and shut up, boy," a voice called from behind him. The clan was now traveling down a steep slope that weaved down the riverside and southward, towards the mountains that led to the harbor they waited for so eagerly. They had been riding for nearly two weeks, and it didn't feel like they were any closer. The trees began to condense into a thick forest on their left side, leading up a nearly vertical hill. On the right was the downward slope, leading into the valley where the city gates lay. Up ahead, the banners were raising. He cautiously pulled down his hood, widening his eyes at the dozen arrows falling from atop the hillside. A band of gnolls was descending from the mountains, fully armed with axes and maces and other stolen weapons. A crudely dressed warrior wearing a rusted orc helmet leapt at him, digging his blade deep into the wolf's left flank and sending the three of them down the hillside. Duroxx yelled, grasping onto a protruding branch. It snapped almost immediately, slashing across his bare face and further down the hill. Another moment passed and his right arm slammed into the hard rock, and then he rolled to a halt in a clearing at the edge of a small patch of forest. Across from him laid the gnoll's bloodied blade, not too far from the carcass of his companion and the staggering mess that was the gnoll. He snarled, rushing to his feet with his broken arm trailing behind him comically. The orc grasped onto the blade, limping towards the gnoll from behind. With a roar, he leapt at his foe, the blade sinking into the gnoll's hide again and again, the crimson tide coating the front of his torn robes. When his foe fell silent, he could hear the triumphant yells of his brethren dying away into the distance as they continued on their journey. They'd forgotten him. Trapped in his mind Duroxx had been walking for weeks. The last of his food had run out, and not even the black hide he held over him like a cloak could not shield him from the increasingly violent elements. He hadn't seen any gnolls, kobold or the like in the forests. The natives of this land weren't quite as deadly as those from Home, but they were certainly formidable. A few humans had wandered by, and he managed to kill them without much of a fuss, but now he wondered if he they were playing dead. Every so often, he would see a golden light in the distance. It disappeared and reappeared almost every day, so he had begun to think it was simply sunrise and sunset peeking through the heavy crowd of trees on all sides. It didn't seem to be any closer than when he had begun walking, but he had to do something. Ahead he could see a small, dark shape shuddering on the forest floor amidst the undergrowth. The orc narrowed his eyes, raising his palm with a wavering ember. It grew slightly as he thought about his dead companion, as if his rage fueled everything he did. The shape turned out to be a small human boy. Duroxx pulled his hood down over his face, holding the flame away to keep him veiled. He whispered; "You, boy." The boy looked up at him, his blue eyes bloodshot and heavy with tears. His skin was coarse and cut as if he had been beaten or fighting. He gasped, leaning somewhat as to take a look at the tall stranger's face. It was dark, but he could make out a pair of protruding tusks. The boy was taken aback somewhat, hesitating before speaking out; "Y-you're here to save me?" Duroxx stood silently for a few moments, before speaking again, "Yes, now come along." The flame died in his palm, and he lowered his hand. Third War Duroxx looked about the camp he had just entered, still veiled behind his black hood. He hadn't come out of it for nearly thirty years until recently, but at least it was clean from the blood and dirt of crawling through the dark forests of Elwynn, as well as his long journey through the dwarven lands.. The horde's banners were raised, but almost all of the orcs in the camp seemed to be wielding either axes, or small maces and white wolf's hide. He squinted, turning away from the camp and hobbling away with a hand laid on the large branch. His leg was still aching, so he decided to keep using the makeshift walking cane for now. "Halt stranger! Show yourself!" He grunted. "Mrgh," Duroxx turned around, staring at the grunt from under his cowl. "I said show yourself!" the orc yelled from atop the watch tower. The warlock pulled down his hood, revealing the aging orc's proud visage and wiry black mane. "I am just a wanderer, do not mind me." "I mind! Throm'ka, kinsman. From what clan do you hail?" The orc had a hand placed on the wooden bow that laid on his left. "Thunderlord." he half-lied, wrinkling his nose. A faded Stormreaver insignia sat on his cloak, and he hadn't thought of it at the time. "Come inside, so --" "Nay, I must continue my journey." Duroxx continued on, ignoring the orc as he continued to shout. An arrow whistled past his ear, but he continued walking. The grunts behind him were yelling, but at this point he had forgotten the danger he was in. They had now stopped, and he continued walking. The warlock pulled up his hood as he crossed over the stone bridge. Below him was the sea, somewhere in which the Stormreavers were enjoying whatever treasure lied on that island. Or perhaps they were taken into the camps like many of his clan. It didn't matter anymore, though. Duroxx grimaced; humans in full armor stood ahead. He halted, a shimmering sphere of black fog covering his fist. One of the humans had seen him and was now charging forwards with his shield raised. Duroxx whispered five foul words beneath his breath, and clenched his fist. The man collapsed, falling face-first on the stone with a crunch, wheezing. The next two stood back, a defensive wall raised in vain. The warlock outstretched his hand, raising his voice as he began to chant another spell. The two soldiers quickly charged, only to be blasted back as a wave of black smoke rolled from the orc's robes and directly forwards, spanning the width of the bridge. The guard who lay on the stone now stood, the dead man groaning and turning around. Now occupied with their risen comrade, the two soldiers failed to notice Duroxx creeping away from the fight and into woods. The Forsaken The Horde Disillusion with the Horde Wrath of the Lich King Cataclysm Rok'gar Firefist Mists of Pandaria Order of Norgannon Abilities Equipment Political Interest Category:Orc Category:Warlock Category:Character Category:Back story